


Rainbows in the Dark

by Sunjinjo



Series: Wings, Scales, Nightingales [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Astronomy, Crowley deserves the world, Crowley's Tattoo (Good Omens), Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Demon Physiology, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Ratatouille Theory, Shapeshifting, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), love and acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:25:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunjinjo/pseuds/Sunjinjo
Summary: "Crowley, the demons I saw at your trial all had animal traits. So I was wondering… where is yours? Your… well I suppose it’d be a snake, wouldn’t it…”Neil Gaiman suggested Good Omens’ demons are their creatures, not the human forms underneath (the Ratatouille theory). I really love snakes. I couldn't help finishing that train of thought.Can be read as a standalone work.





	Rainbows in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> The Lagoon Nebula is truly magnificent. I used this picture for reference. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lagoon_Nebula#/media/File:Hubble's_28th_birthday_picture_The_Lagoon_Nebula.jpg

Alright, so here was the point. The point was…

The point, the angel and the demon had _thought_ , of preventing the end of the world, had been to keep things exactly as they were. To keep intact and unchanged everything they loved about Earth, that wonderful and strange little planet they’d been tasked to watch over and tamper with in equal measure.

Instead, the point of everything that came after Armageddon-that-wasn’t – the Nahpocalypse? Armageddidn’t? – seemed to be that some things _had_ in fact changed.

For one, the Arrangement had completely fallen apart. But not for any reason that would’ve not-so-secretly horrified both Aziraphale and Crowley had someone mentioned this to them anytime prior to the Continuation of the World. No, the Arrangement had fallen apart because the two of them no longer needed any thinly-veiled excuses to meet up or even – dare they think it – spend time together.

After the nightingale had sung in Berkeley Square, there was no place either of them would rather be than by the other’s side. Not that that’d ever not been the case, really, but now neither of them went through their respective alignment-mandated efforts of distance or denial any longer. They spent nights drinking and faux-philosophizing in the bookshop, they visited every fascinating little restaurant that caught their eye, Aziraphale took Crowley to visit (and stealthily intimidate the poor things unwittingly growing in) the massive greenhouses and lily ponds of Kew’s Royal Botanical Gardens. Crowley took Aziraphale to the newest revival of _Hamlet_ playing in the Harold Pinter Theatre, and the tragedy was that much easier to sit through because he could look over and enjoy his angel’s enraptured face whenever he wished. They toured all their favorite haunts they hadn’t seen _together_ yet, never like this, and their newfound closeness made all the difference.

The lack of Heaven and Hell’s interference in their lives had had further effects.

Aziraphale’s first visit to Crowley’s flat had been out of pure necessity, and he’d realized then why the demon had never invited him before, always electing to spend their shared evenings at the bookshop instead. The apartment wasn’t anywhere near as cozy as the shop. In fact, it wasn’t cozy by any measure. The walls had been bare, there’d been barely any furniture, and the only things Crowley really put any effort into were his plants. The lush mass of leaves along the hallway had set off the emptiness of the rest of the apartment even more, like a rainforest in a parking lot.

After his first and only trip into Hell, though, Aziraphale had developed an understanding of his demon’s tastes. Having experienced the crowded, dripping, oppressive filth of the place Crowley regularly returned to, he saw the need for a spot of clean featurelessness; a space to freely breathe in, and calm the mind. He supposed he’d done much the same for himself the other way around, walling himself in with books and comfort to stave off the chill of Heaven’s emptiness.

However, now that the prospect of returning to Hell had been removed from Crowley’s foreseeable future, the demon’s worldly home had undergone a few changes. The demon had arranged for actual furniture, although still stylish, sleek and mostly done in black leather, and the bare walls had in places been covered by decadent but lovely tapestries and paintings, the origins of which Aziraphale pointedly did not ask after.

And then there were the plants.

Before, they’d formed a more or less neat lining of Crowley’s hallway, as much in line with the rest of his barren home as they could be. Now, the demon had allowed them a bit more freedom. There were more species of them, standing pots now went accompanied by hanging bowls full of trailing vines, and the entire verdant mass was speckled with multicoloured flowers like hidden stars. Crowley had essentially transformed his apartment into the closest thing to a comfortable Eden as he could, and Aziraphale was more than happy to visit more often.

On one of those visits, their newfound trust in one another had granted the angel a new discovery about his demon.

Crowley had always insisted he didn’t read. Aziraphale knew he _could_ , he had made himself familiar with modern writing – the demon always went with the times in almost everything, after all – but he’d always pointedly ignored every book in the Soho shop in favor of focusing on wine, and the resident angel. A flattering thing, perhaps, but Aziraphale had always thought Crowley was missing out on something.

But on one of Aziraphale’s visits, he’d stepped into the demon’s study and suddenly found himself faced with a wall-spanning, angular black bookcase, imposing as an obsidian monolith. The angel had startled for the briefest moment, but had also physically felt his pupils dilate at the unexpected sight of that many books. He’d found himself stammering and staring until Crowley had appeared over his shoulder, the demon’s amused grin betraying he’d anticipated this reaction.

“Go on, have a look. Not sure you’ll like them though, we do have different tastes.”

That had been true; Crowley’s books could not be more different from Aziraphale’s leather-bound relics. Like in almost everything else, the demon followed the cutting edge of humanity’s progress; his books covered the most recent word in science, technology, and most of all, astronomy. Crowley was fascinated by the cleverness of humanity, their increasingly accurate discoveries of what the Almighty and his angels had called into the world and painted onto the cosmos.

As Aziraphale had taken book after book off the shelves, he’d realized he was way out of his depth here. Not only did the angel have a penchant for living in the past, he’d also spent most of his time during Creation on the ground, overseeing and later guarding the Garden – but he knew Crowley had been out there before his Fall, scattering light and matter across the black gulfs of space. The angel had looked back at the demon with an expression of heartbreaking fondness, and resolved to catch up on humanity’s discoveries.

From then on, some of his visits to the lush apartment had partly been spent reading. Considering this meant the angel came over more often, and Crowley could occasionally join in to explain, point out his favourite facts or things he’d created personally, and – whenever Aziraphale allowed himself to be distracted – indulge in everything else that came from having the angel at his desk or sharing a couch, the demon did not object to this at all.

So. The point was…

The point, Aziraphale was presently thinking, was that although he’d read much about the formation and various possible origins of nebulae, only pictures could really do justice to how beautiful they were. He might be superficial to value their appearance so, but who could’ve known that mind-bogglingly huge clouds of dust and gas flung in between the stars gleamed with every colour known to man, and probably even more invisible to mortal eyes? The angel marveled at the Hubble telescope’s picture of the Lagoon Nebula in Crowley’s _Extremely Big Book of Astronomy_ , one of the finest tomes to actually see the splendor of the cosmos as the humans had discovered it. His eyes wandered over the dark and rust-red clouds flung over a sheen of rainbow iridescence, the magnificent whole strewn with sparkling stars like diamond dust. A rainbow in the dark, lightyears across.

He was sitting at Crowley’s desk in his spacious study, surrounded by the towering plants the demon had newly brought into the room. These plants hadn’t been here long, so it didn’t come as a surprise as the demon entered, prowling around on one of his regular rounds of intimidation around the house. He sinisterly brandished his plant mister, carefully treating each of his charges to a finely tuned bout of sprayed water and dark mutterings. He kept his voice down; he didn’t want Aziraphale to catch his words and take any angelic pity on the plants.

Still, the angel glanced up from the book in mild disapproval as his demon stalked around. Surely, there were better, kinder ways to ensure verdant beauty.

Crowley passed behind him, spraying and muttering all the way. Aziraphale attempted to focus on the text once more, but then realized the demon lingered suspiciously, like a satellite orbiting a planet. The angel stifled a smile.

As the demon once again emerged into his view, Aziraphale stole a furtive glance at him when he thought he could get away with it – he knew there was no longer any point in hiding or suppressing his affections, but centuries-old habits died hard.

From the way Crowley moved, he just knew the demon was doing the exact same thing, safe behind his dark lenses. _Sneaky snake._ Aziraphale huffed a quiet laugh and slightly raised his head, his eyes crinkling as he took a longer, more unabashed and unbearably fond look, the book on the desk all but forgotten.

Then, all of a sudden, a new thought crossed his mind, one that couldn’t be further removed from stars and plants and how much he’d like to move the two of them to the couch and have a closer look at rainbow nebulae together.

_Sneaky snake._

Aziraphale had been to Hell not that long ago, and seen the various other demons that dwelled there. They’d been shockingly different from Crowley. Where his sleek Serpent took a fully human form apart from his eyes, the other demons had been covered in welts and scales or buzzing with flies, their eyes black and soulless, or round and glazed with fish-like quality. They’d all worn their animalistic marks with clear pride; Hastur’s toad perching plainly on top of his head, Dagon’s scales glinting in the dim light, Beelzebub’s flies clouding the dank air.

Aziraphale definitively looked up from the astronomy book.

“Crowley, dear.”

The demon turned around fully, doing an admirable job pretending to notice him for the first time. The fond uptick of his mouth hopelessly betrayed him. “Yeah?”

“Might I ask you something?”

“Anything, angel.” The demon strolled over and perched on the desk by his side, glancing at the picture of the nebula. “Ah, that one. The ones with all the colours were always a blast to build.”

“I’ve been thinking. The demons I saw at your trial… they all had animal traits. Dagon, Beelzebub. Hastur wore an entire _toad_ on his head. All of it was so much more obvious than just their eyes.” Crowley’s eyebrows had risen over his glasses as Aziraphale spoke, but the angel pressed on. “I was wondering… where is yours? Your… well I suppose it’d be a snake, wouldn’t it…”

Crowley had opened and closed his mouth a few times as Aziraphale had trailed off, attempting to speak the words he was still putting together in his mind. “Ah – well – yeah. I do – I do have one. Trait. Thingy. It’s just.” The demon’s lips remained parted, and it was clear to Aziraphale that his demon now did have the words, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to unstick them from his throat.

The angel gently closed his book, pushed back his chair and rounded the table to join Crowley’s side. A soft hand cupped the demon’s cheek, and Crowley could read the angel’s question in his eyes. He nodded wordlessly.

Aziraphale carefully took off the demon’s dark glasses and set them on the desk, smiling as yellow eyes with slit pupils met his own. He framed Crowley’s face in his hands and pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. “I love everything you are,” the angel spoke with earnest openness, searching the demon’s eyes. Crowley still looked to be struggling with himself, but managed a slight smile. “I always have.” A hint of courage crept into the yellow eyes, then, and Crowley leant forward to quickly kiss the angel in turn. The smile stayed, after.

A deep breath. “Right then.” The demon ran a hand through his flame-red hair, then tapped the right side of his head, just next to his ear. “It’s here.”

Aziraphale looked at the small, subtle black snake tattoo coiled on Crowley’s skin. He’d always thought it’d been a mark the demon had chosen himself, to symbolize he’d once been the Serpent of Eden, much like a human might decide on a tattoo design for sentimental reasons. Now he’d seen the other demons, though, it made sense Crowley would express his innate serpentine mark in such a subtle way compared to them. “So that’s…?”

“…Yeah.” Crowley visibly had a hard time keeping up eye contact. “Not as showy as the others, I know. They were never my kinda crowd.”

“So that’s why it changes from time to time,” Aziraphale exclaimed in delight. “I thought you just felt like changing the design every so often.”

Crowley’s face split in an involuntary grin. “You noticed that?”

“Dear boy, I notice more than you think where you’re concerned.”

The demon closed his mouth, snake eyes gleaming.

“It’s a pity you hide it like this, really. You were beautiful in Eden when we first met.”

“…Really, now.”

“Quite the extraordinary creature.”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth quirked, ever so slightly. “Well. If that’ss the case.” He briefly closed his eyes, and as he opened them again, the snake tattoo shimmered on his skin. With another heartbeat, it coiled into motion, unfurling and winding itself around Crowley’s ear; a tiny, black-scaled jewel of a thing. Pinpricks of yellow beheld Aziraphale as intently as Crowley’s actual eyes, unblinking.

The angel realized he’d been holding his breath. “Can I…”

A wordless nod, barely perceptible, and perfectly mirrored by the tiny snake.

Aziraphale reached out with the utmost care and caution, touching a single finger to the side of the snake’s jaw, and Crowley shivered both under the touch and the angel’s innate divine light. “Aziraphale,” he breathed. The snake leant into the angel’s touch, and Crowley seemed to want to do the same, his eyes all but glazed over and now fully yellow, more inhuman than ever. Shimmering scales ghosted across his cheeks, down his neck, vanishing as quickly as they’d appeared.

The angel pulled back, cautiously studying his demon’s face. “My dear, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He’d been cautious; the touch of an angel was infused with divinity, and it affected the demon as much as the other way around. Given that their innate light and darkness meant no harm to the other, but very much the opposite, their contrasting energies could have a rather intoxicating effect when used with the right intent. Aziraphale’s intent just now had been to be very careful with the little creature Crowley had entrusted him to see – but the demon had still reacted more intensely than ever.

Crowley’s eyes focused before Aziraphale could spiral further into worry. “Hasstur doesn’t… actually wear a toad on his head,” he uttered, his voice raspy and low.

Aziraphale frowned at this apparent non sequitur. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Angel, he _iss_ the toad. The body underneath’s just a vessel. That’s how demons work. Beelzebub _is_ zir swarm of flies, Ligur _iss_ … well, was his chameleon. When we Fell…” Crowley looked away, and the snake at his ear followed the motion. “I was always just… more in tune with my human side than any of them, and fully showing it off is a status symbol for Lords and Dukes anyway, so I never – I never sshowed – not even in Hell –” A humorless little laugh, and when he raised his eyes back to Aziraphale his expression was almost pleading. “Angel, you really think I wass beautiful in Eden?”

Aziraphale had gone very still, but now quietly reached out for the tiny snake once more, new understanding and adoration shining in his eyes. As his carefully manicured finger touched shimmering black scales, the little serpent slid down his hand, steadily growing, until it could wind itself around Crowley’s neck and raise its head. Two pairs of identical yellow eyes beheld the angel, but Aziraphale held the snake’s gaze – Crowley’s _real_ eyes. “I love everything you are,” he repeated, supporting the serpent’s chin and pressing a soft kiss to the top of its head. Then he leaned in further, touching his lips to Crowley’s while still gently holding the snake, beaming with angelic love.

The demon uttered a desperate little sound and all but melted, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale against the desk. As the angel deepened the kiss, he felt the serpent follow, winding around his shoulders and back to Crowley’s, growing all the while both in size and demonic energy. Around and around it wove, enveloping them both, enveloping him completely in _Crowley_ all over and in every way. The demon trembled in his arms, and the angel felt himself shudder at the overwhelming contact and positively ravenous darkness as well. Mere weeks ago they’d barely ever touched one another, and here he was, lost in the coils of Crowley’s truest self…

When the demon pulled back it was slowly, his eyes even less focused than before, legs almost giving out beneath him. By contrast, the serpent’s coils clung to them strong and sure, keeping them both upright. Aziraphale ran a hand over black scales and solid, rippling muscle, dilated eyes glinting in admiration as he caught the rainbow sheen that spread where Crowley’s scales caught the light just so. “Beautiful,” he breathed, and Crowley choked out a little ‘ngk’ in reply. The demon shivered. “Ssshall we, uh. Move this to the couch?” he suggested with a shaky grin, in a way betraying he soon wouldn’t be vertically inclined any longer. 

Aziraphale ran one hand up Crowley’s now fully-scaled nape, the other along the serpent’s head as it emerged over his shoulder. “Temptation accomplished,” he spoke with a devastating smile, and it was a minor miracle that Crowley kept standing at all.

The serpent pulled back just enough to allow them to move, and the two soon all but collapsed onto Crowley’s sleek black couch, Aziraphale pulling his demon in. As his hands wandered over the snake’s scales, Crowley closed his eyes and heaved a shuddering sigh, surrendering fully. As Aziraphale kissed him again, the demon’s human body diminished and seemed to retract itself, becoming one with black scales and rippling coils, until they broke apart and the serpent was all Aziraphale held. It was massive now, the type of snake to feast on pigs and deer, or the odd human. As it wound around the angel, however, Aziraphale knew this was a whole different kind of constriction. He embraced the creature with the same all-encompassing love and exhilaration he sensed pounding through Crowley’s veins – it was very hard to miss the demon’s overwhelming happiness, even without using his angelic senses. He kissed the black scales, and smiled as he was faced with glimmering yellow eyes, unblinking but full of emotion.

“Thank you,” the Serpent hissed, quietly, overjoyed.

“Of course, my dear,” the angel beamed. “You’re lovely in any form, but I did miss this one. You wore it on the day we met, after all.” He thoughtfully paused for a moment. “I do suppose you said it best yourself. ’Age does not wither, nor custom stale his infinite variety’,” he cited with a hint of mischief.

Crowley stammered, hid his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and snuggled even closer. “You know,” he mumbled against Aziraphale’s skin, “I didn’t mean to do thiss ever again. Didn’t even like the idea.”

“Whyever not? If this is your true form…”

“Well, I forgot my name and most of my face once already, didn’t I, along with the resst of my lot. Never figured out the eyes again, either. So what’s to ssay I wouldn’t forget – y’know…” The serpent lifted his head. “Now, though…”

“I’d always remind you.” Aziraphale’s eyes were hopelessly fond. “I wouldn’t let you forget a single detail of that lovely form.”

“Good. That’ss – that’s good.” Crowley hid away again, uttering a small apologetic chuckle. “Because I’m not ssure I’ve got it in me to change back for a while.”

“No matter at all. I’m quite comfortable.” Aziraphale absent-mindedly caressed the coils wrapped around his chest and sides; it was hard to keep his hands off the delightfully smooth, gleaming texture of his demon. The iridescent gleam of the scales caught his eye again, and for a moment the angel’s eyes flicked to the astronomy book on Crowley’s desk, closed and all but forgotten. “You know, your scales hold every nebula you ever made,” he remarked quietly. “Rainbows in the dark. They may have blackened your feathers, but they could never truly part you from the stars.”

Crowley said nothing, but his coils tightened ever so slightly at those words.

So, here was the point.

The point was that, when Crowley eventually reassembled his human form, his serpentine not-quite-tattoo now took to moving around a little more often, sometimes even enough to elicit double-takes from unwitting humans. The point was that Crowley took to removing his dark glasses as soon as he found himself alone with Aziraphale, to the angel’s delight. The point was that sometimes, the demon even allowed himself to wear a shimmering black serpent around his neck like precious, living jewelry, replacing his skinny scarf and, all in all, a much better match with the rest of his sharp attire.

The point was that things had changed, and would no doubt keep changing; around them, between them, within them. For two immortals whose only real constant for six thousand years had been one another, that’d take time to deal with. But as long as they were in it together, they’d deal with it just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Snakes can really have this rainbow sheen, it’s best seen in the literal rainbow boa: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c2/8e/b8/c28eb8ec84c3cc97821e8835c94519ec.jpg Or even more fittingly for Crowley, the sunbeam snake: https://bangkokherps.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/5389379823_a519414b80_o.jpg But it’s even visible in the darker scales of my own lil ball python.


End file.
